


things [identity redacted] says instead of "i love you"

by endlessnighttimesky



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Character Death, Triple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 14:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5336969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlessnighttimesky/pseuds/endlessnighttimesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title says it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	things [identity redacted] says instead of "i love you"

_**one**_

"So much for my promising career in espionage," while he brings a cup of tea to his lips with one hand and spreads a trail of cybernetic breadcrumbs through the Highlands with the other.

 

* * *

 

_**two** _

"Bring that back in anything less than pristine condition and it will be the last one I ever give you," when he hands Bond the keys to the new Aston, wondering silently if he knows how little Q cares about the car, in comparison.

 

* * *

 

_**three** _

"Go left and try not to die," over the comms, like a mirage of sound and static echoing right in Bond’s skull, yet barely audible over the pounding of his heart, when he needs to choose between two darkened hallways.

 

* * *

 

_**four** _

"I've never done this before," trembling and unsure as he pinches a suture needle between two blood-stained fingertips, shivering where he stands, bare-footed on the cold, white tiles of his bathroom floor.

 

* * *

 

_**five** _

"ETA on the extraction team is ten minutes," desperately trying to keep his voice steady as he listens to Bond's heavy breathing, thick and wet through water and blood.

 

* * *

 

_**six** _

"Tuesday," smiling softly but with saddened eyes, when Bond wakes up in the hospital and asks in a rough voice what day it is.

 

* * *

 

_**seven** _

"Good morning," tired, blinking slowly, the early-morning sunshine warm on his skin, Bond's arm a possessive weight across his naked back, needlessly trapping him in a place he'd rather die before leaving.

 

* * *

 

_**eight** _

"I'm so sorry," lower than a whisper, when grey clouds hang heavy over London and soak the streets in rain, as if God himself is mourning, perhaps in a desperate attempt to make up for the tears Bond cannot shed for the friend he will never believe is gone.

 

* * *

  

_**nine** _

"I'm here," quiet and soft into the hollow of Bond's throat while he wonders how many of these dreams Bond has suffered through without his noticing.

 

* * *

 

_**ten** _

Nothing, because he is no longer afraid.


End file.
